Just An Acquaintance
by Rebel-Aquarius
Summary: More acquaintance than friend, or so Will claims when asked about his relationship with Jack in Dead Man's Chest. Of course, we all know better, though. A different twist on Will's comment. Enjoy! Oneshot, heavily implied JackWill and JackBeckett. Slash.


Though I normally don't write slash, as some of my more frequent readers know, this is a special case. I'm not really a big fan of pairings in general, although for some reason, I've noted that, while writing a lot of my fanfiction, I do a fairly good job at writing romance. Go figure. So…technically, this is my first slash piece. Don't kill me!

Taking a moment aside, I just want to dedicate this to my good friend (you know who you are!). It's all your fault I wrote this in the first place, lol! I hope this lives up to our original plans like we hoped. Here goes!

Just An Acquaintance:

"Lord Beckett," the guard announced. "The prisoner as ordered, sir."

Will felt his jaw clench as he looked about the elaborate office, dark eyes finally settling on the man that stood in front of him. Beckett turned at the guard's words, and cast a vague glance at the both of them.

"Those won't be necessary," Beckett said, indicating the manacles bound about Will's wrists. The guard nodded obediently, and proceeded to remove them. Will only watched the commander with narrowed eyes, as he strode away to his desk, and poured some liquor.

"The East India Trading Company has need of your services," Beckett told him, gesturing politely at one of the two glasses. Will gave him a dry look. The commander only shrugged, and sipped delicately at his own.

"We wish for you to act as our agent in a business transaction with our mutual friend: Jack Sparrow."

"More acquaintance than friend," Will informed him sternly. No sooner had the words left his mouth, than he felt a cool sea breeze at the back of his neck, and the distinct odor of rum, and the salt of the ocean that always accompanied_ his _arrival. Will resisted the urge to close his eyes wearily; he couldn't get him off his mind, no matter how hard he tried…he was always there, lingering in the back of his head, that lilting voice whispering gently in his ear like the devil on his shoulder.

"Just an acquaintance?" Jack asked him softly; Will felt shivers race down his spine, as two hands slowly ran up his arms in a caress. He took a deep breath, and tried his best to ignore him.

"How do you know him?" He asked. Somewhere behind him, Jack chuckled, patting him on the shoulder, before he strode into plain view, eyeing the two of them.

"We've had dealings in the past," Beckett told him, completely unaware, as he crossed to the fireplace, his voice smothered in self-satisfaction. "And we've each left our mark…" He lifted a poker from the flames, and Will was slightly startled to see the familiar letter 'P' blazing out in a red-hot shade. "On the other…"

Jack, who had slipped away to examine the chair set carefully behind the desk, took a seat and propped his filthy boots up, lounging smugly before looking pointedly at Will.

"Ask him what mark I left on him."

Will raised an eyebrow.

"What mark did he leave on you?"

Though it was immensely satisfying to see the look on Beckett's face as he squirmed, Will couldn't help but feel a twinge of emotion that he preferred not to name somewhere in his chest. He narrowed his eyes over at where Jack was sprawled, who promptly burst into peals of laughter.

"Oh come on, mate," he said realistically, somehow controlling himself enough to stop chuckling at the expression on Will's face. "You didn't think you were the first one…did you?" Will felt his face grow warm, but shook his head in denial. Jack snickered.

"Anyway, I was desperate. Would have fucked anything."

Will gave him a suspicious look, and Jack raised his hands in mock surrender.

"By your efforts, Jack Sparrow was set free. I would like you to go to him—"

"Won't get any argument from him there," Jack commented snidely, shooting a flirtatious, sideways look at Will that made him flush a brilliant red.

"—and recover a certain property in his possession," Beckett finished, eyeing Will's red face with confusion.

"Recover," Will repeated, trying to focus on the present discussion. "At the point of a sword?" He tossed in snidely, giving Beckett a disgusted look.

"Point of something else, more like it," Jack murmured. Will was struck with the sudden temptation to curse at him.

"Bargain!" Beckett replied innocently, laughing slightly. He turned away from Will, and crossed to his desk, withdrawing papers from a small wooden box that rested upon its surface.

"Letters of Marque," Beckett explained, showing them to Will. "You will offer what amounts to a full pardon. Jack will be free, a privateer in the employ of England."

Will stared at the documents clenched in the other man's hand, trying not to show his contempt.

"Somehow I doubt Jack will consider employment the same as being free," he threw back.

Jack snorted from his corner, announcing "Damn right," in a particularly loud voice. Will choked back a burst of laughter.

Beckett sneered at Will's previous statement.

"Freedom," he stated, smothering the word in derision. Will didn't speak, but watched him with a guarded expression as the commander crossed to the balcony, beckoning for Will to follow him. Jack did the same, wrapping his arm around Will's shoulders and resting his chin on Will's shoulder, as he gazed with immense boredom at Beckett. Will attempted to shrug him off half-heartedly, but was met with no success. Outside the ornate room, Port Royal swarmed with its usual activity, although now Beckett's men were interspersed among the crowds. Will felt his jaw clench, and his hands curl into fists at the sight.

He waited patiently, though, for Beckett to continue speaking.

"Jack Sparrow is a dying breed," the commander smugly informed Will, as he gazed out over the bustling harbor. "The world is shrinking, the blank pages of the map filled in. Jack must find his place in the new world or perish. Not unlike you, Mr. Turner," he said abruptly. Will eyed him warily, waiting for him to go on. "You and your fiancée face the hangman's noose."

Will fell silent, unable to respond to that grim truth. Somehow, he managed to inhale and go on.

"So," he stated, trying to make sense of what Beckett was saying. "You get both Jack and the Black Pearl."

"Jealous?" Jack whispered in his ear. "Want me all to yourself…?"

Will closed his eyes, pointedly ignoring him.

Beckett blinked, confused.

"The Black Pearl?" He asked incredulously.

"The property you want that he possesses," Will explained, now also puzzled.

"A ship?" Beckett replied scathingly. "Hardly. The item in question's considerably smaller and far more valuable. Something Sparrow on his person at all times. A compass."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Jack murmured, running a hand through Will's hair.

Will remembered only too well.

"Ah, you know of it," Beckett said, mistaking Will's expression of recognition. He leaned forward, his eyes glinting intently and dangerously. Jack made a displeased grunt at the lack of distance between the two of them.

"Bring back that compass," Beckett hissed, "or there's no deal."

Jack smirked, and tightened his grip around Will's shoulders, blowing lightly in his ear.

"Don't worry, luv…we can take him…don't you think?"

Will only sighed.

**The End!**

Ha, ha, ha! I am…I am so tired right now…but, that's beside the point!


End file.
